On a scale of 1 to 10, I declare this Saturday a 2. I just woke up ten minutes ago, but already I can tell. The maid didn't bring in my breakfast tray on time, and when she finally staggered up the stairs, the toast was cold. I fired her, of course, but the delicate balance of my day was already jarred. After I rose and drew on my dressing gown--there was a tragic piece of lint on one sleeve that I had to flick off with one pale pink fingernail and a shudder, while averting my eyes--I wandered to the balcony and threw open the French doors and saw in horror that the groundskeeper hadn't begun mowing. It was past eight already, and the smell of freshly-mown grass wasn't there to greet me! I fired him, of course. And then had one of the servant boys start in with the hand-mower. "Take off your shirt!" I called when he neared my window. He was no Brad Pitt, but the results were adequate.

I'm not even going to talk about my morning bath, except to say that I didn't let it crush my will to live, but instead bravely kept my chin high and blinked back my tears and swept grandly onward into my Saturday.

Oh, darling--I had to fire Lars. He said the word "cellulite" in my hearing. The harsh word nearly shattered my eardrums and I fainted immediately, aghast and limp on the marble tiles. In fact, I wanted to ask whether you'd send dear Jeremy over. Or Alain. Or Franz. I can never remember their names. The one with the beauty mark and the very large...er, feet.

Hee. And the phrase "going to Prague" could be figurative for when you just space out in the middle of the office and imagine yourself elsewhere, basking in the sun and eating pastries. E.g., "Oh god, I went to Prague for hours this afternoon, darling. It was the most boring meeting ever."

I have all these gorgeous night pictures of Prague that I found somewhere by googling and saved to my work account. I need to track down that URL and post it, really. Just stunning stuff--all in the style/series of the pic I posted before.

Hee. I am totally kidding. If I were rich, I'd do nothing but write fan-fiction all the time. Well, between jetting around the world and sunning myself and working out and reading and drinking coffee in Prague, etc.